his
subject. He was followed by John Effingham, who had gained an inkling
of what had passed.

"I regret to say, Mr. Effingham," Aristabulus commenced, "that your
advertisement has created one of the greatest excitements it has ever
been my ill-fortune to witness in Templeton."

"All of which ought to be very encouraging to us, Mr.. Bragg, as men
under excitement are usually wrong."

"Very true, sir, as regards individual excitement, but this is a
public excitement."

"I am not at all aware that the fact, in the least alters the case.
If one excited man is apt to do silly things, half a dozen backers
will be very likely to increase his folly."

Aristabulus listened with wonder, for excitement was one of the means
for effecting public objects, so much practised by men of his habits,
that it had never crossed his mind any single individual could be
indifferent to its effect. To own the truth, he had anticipated so
much unpopularity, from his unavoidable connexion with the affair, as
to have contributed himself in producing the excitement, with the
hope of "choking Mr. Effingham off," as he had elegantly expressed it
to one of his intimates, in the vernacular of the country.

"A public excitement is a powerful engine, Mr. Effingham!" he
exclaimed, in a sort of politico pious horror.

"I am fully aware, sir, that it may be even a fearfully powerful
engine. Excited men, acting in masses, compose what are called mobs,
and have committed a thousand excesses."

"Your advertisement is, to the last degree, disrelished; to be very
sincere, it is awfully unpopular!"

"I suppose it is always what you term an unpopular act, so far as the
individuals opposed are concerned, to resist aggression."

"But they call your advertisement aggression, sir."

"In that simple fact exist all the merits of the question. If I own
this property, the public, or that portion of it which is connected
with this affair, are aggressors; and so much more in the wrong that
they are many against one; if _they_ own the property, I am not only
wrong, but very indiscreet."

The calmness with which Mr. Effingham spoke had an effect on
Aristabulus, and, for a moment, he was staggered. It was only for a
moment, however, as the pains and penalties of unpopularity presented
themselves afresh to an imagination that had been so long accustomed
to study the popular caprice, that it had got to deem the public
favour the one great good of life.

"But _th